Breaking Point
by Gruaigrua
Summary: Spoilers:  Sound of Drums Summary:  Here come the drums! All hell has broken loose.  And nobody can do a thing about it.  This has gone way beyond the 2 original chapters due to the positive feedback I've had. Thanks! And keep reviewing, please!
1. Chapter 1

**Breaking Point**

Martha staggered downhill with millions of Toclafane zooming overhead. She silently prayed that the perception filter worked on them and that they'd ignore her as they kept heading towards the city… a horrible thought, knowing what those orbs were capable of. She was tired, cold and that landing had nearly dislocated her shoulder. Worst of all, she was scared and alone, terrified that she'd made the wrong decision by just teleporting herself off the Valiant. Maybe she should have brought The Doctor with her and tried to reverse the ageing at Lazlabs… If they'd managed to get anywhere near the facility. In his present aged state would he have even survived the journey? She choked back another sob as her thoughts turned to her family. What would happen to them, now? They were no good to The Master. The Doctor was important for _something_ and Jack couldn't die… Mum, Dad and Tish could, though. Oh, what had she done? She reached the wooden perimiter fence of the field where she had landed and climbed over. Catching her breath, she sat on the fence completely at a loss as to which direction to go. Maybe she could take a car and go… somewhere. Back to the hospital, back to her mum's house, to Brighton and Leo. She needed a friendly face… She needed someone to swoop in and tell her they were taking over and everything would be okay.

Before she went any further, her phone rang. Martha debated whether to answer. It could be Leo… She flipped up the phone. It wasn't.

"Hello Martha." The Master said in that grating, mock cheery tone. "You left the party early. I just wanted to make sure you got home okay." She said nothing… what would be the point. "I never thanked you, did I?" The Master strutted around the Valiant's boardroom like a peacock, admiring the havok he'd wrought. The Doctor looked too weak and aged to do anything. Jack had been manhandled into one of the boardroom chairs and tied securely with the same heavy duty binders used on the Joneses. "Without you, I'd still be under the illusion that I was this batty old professor. You _freed_ me, Martha Jones. My triumph is all because of you."

Jack yelled out. "Don't listen to him Martha! This is _not_ your fault!" His outburst was rewarded with a backhanded punch across the face from the Master that almost sent him careering to the ground.

"Now Martha, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," The Master flexed his hand, cracking his knuckles. "I want to thank you in person for your part in my success here today. So beam yourself back up here, there's a good girl."

"No." Martha stood firm.

"No?" The Master frowned. "_No_ is not an option. Teleport back up to the ship, or I'll kill the Doctor."

"No you won't." Martha said trembling, despite the confident tone in her voice. "If you were going to kill him, he'd be dead already. And there's no point in killing Jack because he'll _always_ come back." There was a note of pride in her voice, if just to piss off the Master.

"Your mother won't." The Master said casually wandering to the end of the table where the Joneses were still being held. "Or your father, or your very pretty sister." He stroked Tish's face. She, in turn, recoiled in disgust burying her head into Clive's shoulder. As helpless a captive as the rest of them, all Clive could do was loop his bound arms over her shoulders in an attempt to protect her. The Master just smiled. "Aww what a _touching_ display of family unity. Pity we couldn't find… what was her name _Annalise_?… to complete our little tableau." He then turned to Francine. "Mrs Jones, you've been so helpful in the past, reason with your daughter." He held his phone to her ear, taking the pistol from one of his nearby henchmen.

"Martha?" Francine's usually strong, confident voice was cracking with fear.

Martha couldn't take the pressure any more and just sobbed down the phone. "Mum, I'm so sorry."

The Master could hear Martha's distress and grinned. "Tell her to come back, Mrs Jones. Come back to Mummy."

"Martha, I love you very much." Francine said. "We all do…"

"Tell her…" The Master interrupted, tracing the gun down Francine's arm.

"But you keep running." She said. "Stay free." The Master snatched the phone away, furious that nobody seemed to be able to do what they were told! "Do you hear me Martha!" Francine was practically screaming. "Don't come back here!" She only stopped when The Master pointed the gun in her face.

Martha could hear the screams and pleading from her family, Jack and even the Doctor. Amidst it all, The Master had a calm, even tone. "Come back now Martha, or I'll kill them all."

"And when I come back you kill me too?" Martha asked, defiantly. "Why? I'm _nothing_. I'm nobody. What could I _possibly_ do to stop you? What difference could _the girlie_ make against millions of Toclafane?"

The Master's expression changed. His eyes widened, nostrils flared and his teeth were gritted in an angry grimace. "I am The Master and you will obey me."

Throughout all the commotion, Lucy was watching the Doctor. He may have been old and feeble, but before Harry transformed him, he just materialised in the room without security detecting him. He could still cause trouble. The threats to the Jones family seemed to cause him great distress. Lucy watched him claw at his shirt and tie as he gasped for breath. "Harry! There's something wrong." The Master turned around to see the Doctor slump over in his chair.

"He's going to die and regenerate." Jack yelled, struggling with his bonds but having no success.

"No nono nononononono! No you don't, Doctor." The Master raced over and pushed the Doctor back up into a sitting position, still keeping on the line to Martha. "See the trouble you're causing, Martha. You're upsetting everyone by not doing what you're told."

"Seems like the choice is yours now, Saxon." Martha growled into the phone. "Who's more important to _you_? Me, or the Doctor?" And she hung up.

The Master screamed and threw the phone at the nearest structure. It bounced off the wall and skittered along the floor, practically landing back at his feet. He took out his laser screwdriver and aimed it at the Doctor. "Seems I have to do a reversal. But know this, I can keep going back and forth as long as I like. And if you think it hurt the first time, it's _nothing_ compared with the second!" The Master flicked the switch and once again, the Doctor's body was wracked with agony while the transformation took place. Jack could only look on, unable to do anything but helplessly watch the Doctor's body convulse and spasm while he screamed out, in pain. Eventually, it stopped, but not before the Doctor, back to his young self, fell off the chair and onto his hands and knees, gasping for breath.

"You needn't think this changes anything." The Master kicked out, catching the Doctor in the side of his face and knocking him cold...


	2. Chapter 2

Breaking Point Chapter 2 

The Master's face was inscrutable as he looked over the Doctor's prone figure. Hunkering down beside him, the Master picked up his phone. "Well aren't you clever! Thought you could get my phone? Now, what would you do with that? Ring the lovely Martha to discuss hairstyles or take it apart and create an anti paradox machine to save the day? Can't have you doing that, now can I?" He gestured to the armed guards. "Secure him."

There was no care or finesse in their treatment of the unconscious Doctor. Two guards roughly bundled him back onto his chair and before long, had him swiftly and securely tied, with his wrists anchored down by his sides to the back legs of the chair.

The Master took a moment to look over his nemesis' current incarnation. The last time they had faced each other, The Doctor looked like an Edwardian Fop, acted like it too… This one looked and acted younger than he ever remembered. Bounding around the control room in the year 100 trillion like a ball of kinetic energy, racing to and from the radiation room without losing breath while blithering Professor Yana bumbled around getting older by the minute. But now he too was young and passionate, charismatic and strong. Everything The Doctor was, and a bit more! On an impulse, The Master placed his fingers on The Doctor's temples. He wanted to know what was going on in that insufferable brain. Know what it was really like to see Gallifrey fall. The Master saw nothing, only a grey funk. "Well unconsciousness will do that to you. We'll just have to wait until you wake up, old friend." The Master addressed the others in the room. "I want you all to leave now. The Doctor and I have a lot to catch up on. Take the Joneses for processing. No point in wasting them." He watched as Clive, Tish and Francine were led out of the room, still struggling, still fighting and he rolled his eyes. "Oh! So stoic and heroic and other words that end in '_oic'_ that I'm sure will come to me later." He smiled over at Jack who was fighting a losing battle against the guards holding him. "And as for The Captain, here. There's no _point_ in killing him, more's the pity! But if he does try anything you have my permission to start cutting off body parts." Lucy tutted louder than she intended to. "They can start with the _fingers_, then! Honestly, Lucy!" The Master snaked his arm around his wife's waist, holding her close. Lucy grabbed his face and she kissed him deeply and passionately. The Master only broke their embrace when The Doctor started to stir. "Not that this isn't _super_ fun darling, but I need to spend some quality time with The Doctor." She followed the guards dragging Jack from the room. "And _leave him alone_!" The Master couldn't help but smile back at her as Lucy gave a little wave on leaving the room. "It's always the quiet ones you have to watch!"

Consciousness returned swiftly and painfully. There wasn't a part of the Doctor that didn't hurt. Every muscle, every nerve ending jarred and his head felt like it had been… _Oh right_. It _had_ been kicked in. His cheekbone was hot and throbbing. It wasn't broken, but he'd have a hell of a bruise which would go well with the massively distracting headache. The Doctor only realised he was tied up when he attempted to bring a hand up to examine his cheek and the plastic cord dug painfully into his wrist. It was then that he decided to face the inevitable, lift his head from his chest and open his eyes.

"Hello!" The Doctor's senses were assaulted by a voice too loud and too cheery and a hand waving far too close to his face. The Master sat directly opposite him, practically toe to toe. "Nice to see you finally bothered to wake up."

The Doctor looked around the silent boardroom. "Where are Jack and Martha's family?"

"They've been taken care of." The Master said flatly.

"What does that mean?" The Doctor asked, testing the restraints and finding no give in them.

"It means, they've been taken care of." The Master rolled his eyes. "Your concern for them is really touching, but don't you think you should be more concerned with your own predicament?"

"Why? What are you going to do… Kill me? You haven't been able to manage it so far!"

"No, you're right. I've no interest in killing you." The Master patted the Doctor's knee, addressing him like a child. "But I can't have you wandering around, causing trouble, thinking you can escape and save the world from certain doom. It just creates a mess... Oh, and by the way, you didn't get the phone either. Just thought I'd tell you!"

Now it was the Doctor's turn for dry humour. "Oh no. You saw through my cunning plan."

"I usually do."

"And I usually stop you anyway."

The Master stood up and leaned in close to the Doctor's face. "You won't this time."

Had it been anyone else in this situation, they would have believed the Master. The Doctor smiled. "Now where have I heard that before."

The Master stayed close, looking deep into the Doctor's eyes. "It's ironic, you know, that out of all of us, _you'd_ be the one to drop the bomb, pull the plug, blow Gallifrey… Our _home_, to smithereens." The Doctor's brown eyes darkened as a smile curled on the Master's lips. He sauntered away knowing he'd hit a nerve. "You never told me. What was it like? To hold all that power in your hands, to know that you were about to wipe out _millions_?"

"You tell me." The Doctor countered. "You're the one who's just killed 600 million."

"Yeah, but they don't count." The Master dismissed the massacre with a wave of his hand. "It's not like any of them were friends, or family. It's not like I just murdered my wife and kids or anyone I ever loved or cared about or anything like that, is it." He strode back to The Doctor and got right back in his face. "_Is it_?" The Doctor remained silent. "Not smiling now, are you?" The Master leaned in to the Doctor's ear. "Come on…" he whispered. "It's just you and me. No audience. You can tell me anything."

"After you tell me about the Toclafane."

"_Quid pro quo, Clarice_? Saw that film. Thought it was a bit… melodramatic." The Master sighed, leaning on the arms of the chair, keeping right in on the Doctor, invading his space. "No. Not interested. I want to know about the fall of Gallifrey."

"Gallifrey. It fell." It galled the Doctor to speak with such a cavalier attitude about his home, but he wasn't giving the Master an iota.

Instead of being irritated, The Master started laughing. "Oh you haven't changed. Still so sanctimonious and holier than thou. _The Doctor_, supreme protector of the Galaxy, still thinking you're so superior to the rest of us." The Master sneered. "I can remember the days when that famous Doctor, he was waging a Time War… battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at Medusa Cascade single handed. And look at him now... How did he ever come to this?" He spoke like he was addressing an audience. "Oh yes! _ Me!_ I took your TARDIS, I have your friends… I have _you_. Not so superior now."

"Oh God." The Doctor let his head fall back and he stared up at the boardroom's ceiling. "Can you just do the DNA manipulator thing again. That way I can hurry up and die of old age and not have to put up with your _speechifying_." He looked back over at the Master, trying to gauge a reaction. "And it's really not the same, listening to you go off on one without the goatee."

The Master stroked his chin, unphased at the Doctor's outburst. "I experimented for a while after the regeneration, but the spin doctors said it made me look _untrustworthy_, so in the interests of my political career, it had to go. By the way, I caught up with Sarah Jane Smith last year, when she interviewed me. She was looking _rather _well, I have to say. Charmed the pants off her… not literally though. Wouldn't do for a married politician to be having it off with a journalist. I don't think even_ I_ could have weathered that scandal."

"You seem to have done a lot in the interests of your career." The Doctor said, shifting in the seat, trying to find a position that was a little less uncomfortable on his back and shoulders. "Like Lucy. What did you do to her?"

"_Do to her_? Same as what you did to your little groupies. I showed her the universe. Took her on a joyride through time and space and showed her the infinite power and possibilities. She thanked me for the opportunity… Thanked me repeatedly and creatively, I hasten to add." The Master grinned, raising an eyebrow. "I promised her I'd make her an Empress. Lucy is by my side of her own volition."

"She's crazier than you!"

"Oh yes." The Master nodded, matter of factly. "A rare gem indeed. Loyal, faithful, loves me utterly… couldn't ask for more. " He chewed his lip, seemingly lost in though for a moment. "So, how about you, Doctor? Still keeping yourself off limits, playing the benevolent paternal figure to any star struck bimbo who passes your way? Can't be easy when you look like that…" The Master traced a finger over the Doctor's uninjured cheekbone. "Or are you finally letting yourself have some fun with Martha… or maybe Jack… or _both_? I'd say the Captain has shown you a trick or two."

"Ask him nicely and I'm sure he'll show you himself."

"He's a bit tied up at the moment… Another time, maybe." The Master strolled over to the porthole behind where the Doctor was sitting and looked out at the bright blue sky. "It's getting late. I have a lot on for the day what with me, you know, ruling the planet and everything. No more time to waste on idle chit chat and strolls down memory lane, so it's time to get down to business."

Before The Doctor could react, The Master stood directly behind him and placed his fingers on the side of the Doctor's head. A full on, mental assault, tearing through his mind and memories like a tornado through a wooden house. Every door the Doctor closed, The Master kicked in, progressing further and further in to the darker recesses, seeking out the information he wanted. Daleks, Cybermen, planets burning, people screaming, death, destruction, panic, suns exploding, sun consuming, scarecrows, fear, mayhem, chaos, love, happiness, Grace, Benny, Sarah, Lucie, Joan, RoseJackieMickeyPete… Names, faces, all remembered, all loved… All gone.

He was helpless. The Doctor tried throwing his head forward to release the grip, Backwards, side to side… Anything to stop the Master's onslaught through his mind. He tried the same trick Reinette had done on him, to get into the Master's mind, but was brutally pushed out by a stronger will. He screamed, he pleaded, he wept, he _begged _for it to stop. But only when the Master had had his fill did the torture abate.

The Master slumped into the chair facing the Doctor, loosening his tie and dabbing perspiration from his brow like he'd indulged in an intense workout. His hearts were racing, his body surging with adrenaline from the ride. "I always knew you had a darkness in you." He panted, grinning as the Doctor remained slumped over in his chair, trembling and gasping for breath. "I just never knew _how_ dark." The Doctor flinched as The Master placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "It's _magnificent_." Blood dripped down The Doctor's limp fingers onto the floor from his wrists. He'd struggled so hard to keep the Master out that he'd broken the skin around the restraints. The Master knew there was little point in beating him or any other physical tortures, but anything the Doctor did to himself in the process was a bonus. He also knew The Doctor was close to breaking. Most wouldn't have survived what he'd done. It made it even more delicious that he'd get to keep going in again and again until the Doctor snapped. Tipping Doctor's head up, he looked him in the eye, before preparing for round two. "The next time you say my name, you'll mean it." And the mental storm raged again.

The Doctor tried, he tried _so hard _to keep the Master out of places he had no right to be. Invading his thoughts, his privacy, his precious memories. The wonders of a frozen planet, the majesty of a second sunrise over the forests, a dance in a French Court, the scent of applegrass, the smile of a girl lost forever… No amount of mental abuse would make The Doctor give them up. He just had to hold on to them, preserve what little strength he had left in the belief that Martha would somehow make a difference, he still had to cling to the hope…

"What?" The Master exclaimed, breaking the connection. "_Hope_? With all that's gone on around you today?" He laughed loudly. "And they said _I_ was the crazy one!" He bent down and grabbing the Doctor by the hair, stared into his glassy, unfocussing eyes. His old foe teetered on the brink of unconsciousness but the Master wouldn't allow him that luxury. "You cling to your fairy tales, your belief that good will triumph over evil, that the hero will rescue the damsel in distress. Trust me, nobody's coming to your rescue, Doctor!"

And as, once again, The Doctor's agonised screams reverberated around the boardroom, the Master whispered, "This time there'll be _no_ happy ending."

Fin


	3. Chapter 3

**Breaking Point Chapter 3**: _Perspective_

12.01am, San Diego California.

Donna Noble took her time pulling a decent pint of Guinness from behind the bar of _O'Sullivan's Irish Pub_ in San Diego, California. She'd been working there for about 3 weeks trying to build back up her finances after spending nearly a year travelling the world… _walking in the dust_. And she had walked in some interesting dust! Assorted cultured European capitals, including Berlin in Germany – if just to spite Lance, pyramids at Giza, markets in Marrakesh, boats in Hanoi, shrines in Nepal, hutongs in Beijing, sunset at the Great Wall, Mardi Gras in Rio (like that Duran Duran song with the boat!), climbing Machu Pichu, sailing up the Amazon, drinking the worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle in Guadalajara for a bet, watching the sunrise over the Grand Canyon, laughing at the sparkliness of Las Vegas. All that time spent living out of a back pack, staying in hostels and having the time of her life, like some gap year, 20-something student. The San Diego pitstop was a chance to draw breath before heading to New York, prior to returning home to normal. In one way, it was good to be going back home. She couldn't be a tourist all her life. In another way, it would be getting back to just being normal. Back to desk jobs and take away coffees and _Heat Magazine_ and _Eastenders_. What good would a smattering of Vietnamese be then? Maybe she could stay in O'Sullivans, but she didn't want to be a barmaid for the rest of her life either.

As the creamy brown liquid settled to black, Donna looked up at the television. Like seemingly everyone else on the planet, she wanted to see who the Toclafane were and was excited by the prospect of people knowing about alien life… Of course she's known about alien life for a while! Spiderwomen living in the centre of the earth, martians who aren't _really_ martians living in phone boxes that aren't really phone boxes. A gasp went up in the bar when these spheres that looked like discoballs materialised around President Winters. Since _that_ Christmas Eve, Donna had taken a dislike to discoballs, especially ones that looked like tree decorations! It was really odd. They spoke English, but sounded like spoiled children. Was this a joke? People murmured uneasily when the cameras picked up Saxon saying he was _taking control_. A split second later the murmurs became screams as President Winters was assassinated live on television. Obliterated by a beam from one of the alien discoballs. The cameras kept filming the event and despite the hysteria, nobody could keep their eyes off the unfolding events. Donna was as transfixed as any of them, but for a different reason. There in the corner of the screen, a man was struggling against 2 others. "Doctor?" she gasped. Her panic quelled slightly. This must be the kind of thing he does every day. He'll stop it and it will be okay. It will be okay…

The only thing that kept Donna going after a 15 hour shift in the labour camp was the memories she treasured from her travels. She found a space on the floor of the San Francisco warehouse that housed her and about 500 others and lay down. She didn't want to talk to anyone, didn't want to look at anyone. She hadn't been left alone since the Decimation. The survivors were quickly corralled and put to work, shifted around like chattel from silo to silo to get the raw materials to build rockets and bombs so the Master and the evil discoballs could conquer the universe. It felt like bad scifi. Any minute now, Luke Skywalker would come swishing in with Spiderman and Captain Kirk and kick discoball ass, rescuing them. There had been rumours of insurgents, of a woman who escaped from the Master's ship and who knew how to kill him. That's what happens when you keep moving workers from city to city to work. Fairy stories emerge to sustain some kind of hope. Why bother. There _was_ no hope. Well, that's what the tiny voice at the back of her mind kept telling her anyway. That it was hopeless, that she was the property of The Master and any rebellion would be futile. Her thoughts were disturbed by someone lying nearby and using her thigh as a pillow. That person in turn allowed someone to use hers in the same way. With such a high volume of people in a confined area, personal space was a thing of the past… so was personal hygiene. Water was too precious a commodity to waste on vanity, so dirt was ingrained on weary faces and cracked hands and if she'd had a scissors, Donna would have cut off her matted, clumped hair months ago. Despite the hardships, people stuck together. You didn't fight it when someone huddled close to you, you shared their body warmth because, God knows, there was little else to share. Donna dug deep into her memory and thought of that glorious sunrise over the Grand Canyon. She had cried watching it, emotionally overcome because she'd never seen anything so beautiful in her life… and the way things were going, she'd never see anything beautiful again.

The sleep she craved didn't last long. The whispering and the murmuring started. Nobody seemed to shout any more. Everyone spoke in hushed tones for fear drawing attention to themeselves. You didn't do that. You kept your head down and you worked, otherwise the Toclafane would deal with you. The murmuring soon became chatter and that woke her up. Were they being moved again? Donna sat up and looked around. People were congregating around a young black woman, they said her name was Marsha, or something. That she was the one who had escaped. The fairy tale had a princess… and she was _real_. She spoke to the crowd. Her name was _Martha_ Jones and she had a story of her own to tell. Donna heard the accent and smiled. So nice to hear an English voice again that wasn't the Master's. As she spoke about asking to people to hope and believe that they would overcome this, the murmurs started again. Donna strained to hear… had she mentioned the Doctor? _The actual_ Doctor?

"Let her speak!" Donna's voice echoed around the warehouse and the throng turned to look at her. "I've met this Doctor. If she says he has a way of bringing down The Master, then he'll bring down the Master."

Martha spoke eloquently about how the Archangel network had a low level psychic field that was keeping everyone afraid. Afraid to rebel, afraid to do anything but what they were told. The Doctor wasn't asking them to rise up, only to think. Because the Master was such an egomaniac, she knew he'd broadcast the countdown to war. There was no date scheduled, but when that countdown hit zero, all she wanted people to do was to think of one word. _Doctor_.

Donna listened, mesmerised by the optimism in Martha's voice, despite the horrors she had seen – they'd _all_ seen. It was a simple thing. Hardly seemed like a plan at all… but that was the beauty of it, wasn't it? Tired, sick, hungry people thinking about a doctor. Not an aggressive trigger word like _rebellion_, or _war_, or _Die, Master, die_! When Martha had finished, people began to drift away, back to their own tiny corners of the warehouse. Donna stayed. She needed to talk to Martha and it seemed Martha had the same idea and was approaching Donna.

"You know the Doctor?" Martha asked, taking Donna's rough, dirty hand between her own. Donna quietly nodded. They sat on the floor and exchanged stories, Martha never once attempting to let go of Donna's hand. It didn't matter that they were surrounded by squalor and deprivation, it didn't matter that they didn't even _know_ each other. It felt like they were friends chatting in a coffee shop.

"Do you know how he is?" Donna asked, still keeping a hushed tone.

"No." Martha shook her head. "I've had word that there's been broadcasts where Saxon drags the Doctor out to show him off. As long as he's alive, you know…"

"You still call the Master _Saxon_…"

"He's not _my_ Master. He never will be." Martha said with a defiant smile on her face. She watched as the inmates all huddled down on hearing the Toclafane approach. "I have to move on, now. I'm sorry Donna."

"How are you not getting caught? The evil discoballs are buzzing around outside, right now."

Martha showed Donna the TARDIS key with the perception filter. "It protects me. Keeps me kind of shielded from them."

"Like a biodampener?"

"Spoken like a true companion! Like everyone else, I keep my head down and don't draw attention to myself." Martha's smile dropped, finally feeling like she could be honest with someone who'd understand. "I just hope it's enough, you know... that when the time comes people will know what to do.

"We'll spread the word around the factories and the other warehouses. Get people thinking." Donna said as Martha let go of her hand and slipped quitely away.

Two people she barely knew, gripped Donna Noble around the waist and tried their best to keep her upright. If you couldn't stand, you couldn't work and if you couldn't work you were no good to anyone and the Toclafane would deal with you. Underfed, overworked and overcrowded, sickness and disease spred like wildfire and Donna caught the flu. Before the Decimation, she'd have taken to her bed for a week and taken lots of Solpadeine. Now, she didn't even have the luxury of a bed to take to. The usual trick when someone was ill was to get them in a position where they didn't have to stand to work, that they could spend the day on their hands and knees. But getting to and from the silos, it was obvious who could stand and who couldn't so the workers huddled around the sick, close to each other and kept them standing, kept them walking… kept them alive. Donna would never describe herself as a quitter, but she was so close. The only thing that kept her going was the hope that the Doctor would come good and save them like Martha said he would.

Rumours had spread through the factories that the Master had planned a big launch on the first anniversary of the Decimation, whenever _that_ was. Nobody had calendars or watches anymore. It could have happened weeks ago and they wouldn't have known. The were relying on the Master's need for an audience to give them their cue. It didn't matter how desperately sick she felt, Donna needed to survive until then to think of the bigger picture, needed to do her bit to help the Doctor save the world. After that, she really didn't care. She didn't have the strength to. They were herded to a different area of the factory, in front of a large screen.

"Citizens of Earth. Rejoice and observe." The Master's smug voice announced and the cameras turned on Martha Jones walking into the inner sanctum of the Valiant for her execution to be shown live on television. As a warning to the rest of the population, no doubt. An expectant murmur went through the crowd, followed by shushes from the stronger ones. They couldn't let it fall apart in the last minute. The countdown ticked down and Donna's heart swelled at the prospect of it hitting zero.

5

4

3

2

1

Doctor… 

12.02am, San Diego, California.

People were screaming. President Winters had just been assassinated on live television. The cameras broadcasting the event had cut out. Donna stood behind the bar trembling. It was horrific… but The Doctor was there. He'll do something. He'll stop it and it will be okay. She looked around at the terrified patrons with a strange sense of déjà vu. This felt frighteningly familiar. She shook it off as shock from seeing the assassination. Donna found herself comforting people in the bar throughout the night. Serving drinks to steady the nerves, finding napkins for the shocked and upset to use as tissues, hugging people she'd never met before and making sure nobody was on their own. The bar was still packed at closing time, but none of the staff were in a hurry to eject patrons. Under the circumstances, Donna didn't think the cops were going to be too bothered about a few licencing laws being bent.

The news networks were all reporting that not only had the Toclafane killed the US President, but also Prime Minister Saxon and his Cabinet. Ex-PM Harriet Jones had been hastily sworn in to lead the UK again and in a global address she explained that the three Toclafane who had made contact had been destroyed before they could bring others through. And somehow Donna knew The Doctor had been behind it, dealing with it quickly before it became a full scale invasion. If she ever saw him again, she'd buy him a pint.

Such a shame The Doctor couldn't have saved Mr Saxon though. He was nice…

Fin


	4. Chapter 4

**Breaking Point**

Chapter 4: Valiant (Part 1)

Captain Jack Harkness had died more times in the last year than the last 100 put together. Since his capture with the Doctor, Jack had become the Master's new plaything. The games The Master played with The Doctor were purely psychological because he couldn't risk his old foe dying and regenerating into a youthful, stronger adversary. With Jack though, it was all physical. There wasn't a bone that hadn't been broken, a major organ that hadn't been pierced. Sometimes it would be quick, but most times it wasn't. The Master treated Jack like an experiment. Wanted to know how a human couldn't stay dead, questioned him about his memories to find out if there were inconsistencies, even going so far to wonder out loud if Jack was another Time Lord. The fact that Jack had died more than 12 times and not regenerated once might have been a clue. The flippancy of that answer was _rewarded_ with a knife to the stomach. Jack took three days to die from that wound. The Master had allowed nobody to touch him, threatening to wipe out everyone in the Greater London area if anyone tried to help him.

After living through and fighting in several wars in different times, Jack thought he had a grasp of the cruelty one being could inflict on another. With the Master, he wasn't even close. The levels of pain he could subject Jack to without killing him, the length of time he could keep him lingering on the brink. It got to a point where Jack considered death a victory because the Master couldn't stop it happening. Jack would succumb to the blackness and be safe. No more pain… if just temporarily.

But it wasn't all about how much pain the Master could inflict on Jack. It was about breaking him mentally too. The Master had pretty much violated Jack in every way, including sexually, in a bid to humiliate him. Jack wouldn't allow the bastard to taint that which he considered to be sacred and beautiful with something as base and petty as rape. Rape wasn't about sex anyway. It was about the power the Master wielded over Jack and was to be considered no worse than a beating or a stabbing, because to consider it otherwise would be a victory for the Master and Jack would never allow that. He _couldn't_ allow that.

Jack didn't know if the Valiant was subject to the same psychic field as the rest of the planet, but there were definitely a few people on board who possessed a stronger will than those down on Planet Earth… Amongst them, were Martha's family! When it had all started, Jack would be taken away, tortured and then his dead body dumped back in the sleeping quarters with the other prisoners. Francine would make sure that when he did come back to life, that Jack would be cleaned up and in bed. If the time allowed, she would wash his clothes using cheap soap and cold water… it was better than nothing and she had to at least try to get the blood out. Afford the man some dignity for what he had to endure. Often when he'd revive, the first person he'd see would be Francine and she'd take his hand telling him he was okay.

"… For the time being anyway." Jack rasped quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. Francine got him some water while he hauled himself up into a sitting position in the small bunk. "Not that I'm not grateful, Mrs Jones…"

"Francine."

"_Francine_." Jack smiled that million megawatt smile. "But why are you doing this?"

"I saw some of the broadcast on a monitor and the first thing I saw you do was stand in front of my daughter to protect her. Whilst I can't exactly return the favour, the least I can do is make sure you're alright when we get you back… And… and _are_ you alright?"

Jack brushed her concern off. He couldn't deal with that right now. "Oh, you know me."

Francine raised an eyebrow "Actually, Captain Harkness…"

"Jack."

"_Jack_… no I don't. I don't know you at all." For all the hard façade Francine put up, one look in her eyes showed her concern for this poor man. She'd seen some amazing things since being transported to the Valiant. The Doctor aged to a wizened, old man. Jack dying… and he had been _dead_. She'd checked for vital signs herself and there had been nothing. But since Harold Saxon had betrayed her trust and used her concern for her daughter against her, Francine realised that maybe Martha's friends were the ones she should be siding with, and give them the benefit of the doubt. "How well do you know Martha?"

"Not very. We share a mutual friend." Jack said, sitting himself up properly, swinging his legs out onto the floor until he was beside Francine. "And if she's with The Doctor, then she must be special indeed."

Francine closed her eyes. "I was so wrong about him. Saxon's people told me these lies… That if Martha stayed with him, she could get hurt… I can't help thinking that a lot of this is my doing. If I'd have left well enough alone…"

"You were being controlled by the Archangel network. We were all suckered in by Saxon. Of course you trusted him. Hell, _I_ trusted him and I'm wary of _everyone_! You were manipulated, Francine." Jack placed his hand on hers. "It wasn't your fault." She just nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know you're worried for Martha, but you know her better than anyone. She's a fighter. She's got brains to burn and, if you'll pardon my language, balls of steel. And don't forget, she's also got a TARDIS key that can protect her because of its perception filter."

"Two of my children are missing, Jack. The third is a prisoner on this ship." Francine said. "It's the not knowing… it's killing me."

Jack put his arms around her and let the formidable, fiery Francine Jones cry on his shoulder. He had no ulterior motive. This wasn't Jack giving it the good old Harkness Charm. This was a man comforting a frightened woman… comforting a _friend_.

When Francine couldn't be there herself, she'd enlist Clive and Tish to keep watch over Jack until he came around. Because it was Francine's job to serve the Master his breakfast, there were nights when she got little or no sleep in order to tend to Jack, but she didn't dare miss the call. "Staff" on board the Valiant who displeased the Master would get transported back to Earth and put to work in the labour camps, enduring harsh conditions. The Valiant was a 5 star resort in comparison. If anything, Francine would make sure she was ready a few minutes before she was needed so she could go to the boardroom and talk to the elderly Doctor. Some days, he talked on and on like the young man she had met at LazLabs. Other days, he was barely responsive, his eyes distant and unfocussed. The Doctor wasn't exempt from the Master's cruel whims either. He took great pleasure in taunting the old man. To Francine, Master was nothing more than a bully, a vicious, cowardly, murdering bastard and given the first chance, she would end him.

"How does he do it?" Tish asked as she and Francine removed the stained clothes from Jack's lifeless body. "How is he not an insane, gibbering mess?" Neither woman wanted to think about the abuse meted out, just to get him cleaned up and hopefully allowed to get some rest before the next round of whatever "games" the Master had planned. Tish could barely think of him as dead and gone, just unconscious. He'd wake up every time, so maybe he wasn't _really_ dead. Jack never spoke about where he went. Nothing about "going towards the light" or floating on a cloud. Tish hoped it was because he didn't remember. She had to believe with all the carnage and death going on around them, the victims were going a better place.

Clive joined them, helping to lift Jack's dead weight into the bunk, voicing Tish's opinion. "Maybe he doesn't remember it after he wakes up."

"Oh he remembers." Francine said ruefully as the three ensured Jack was tucked in, where he'd wake up warm and safe.

"If that was me…" Tish started.

"Just thank God it's not you." Clive kissed his daughter on the forehead and ushered her to her own bunk. He took Francine's hand. "You can't do anything more for him tonight, sweetheart, get some sleep. She was too tired to protest. Clive had been a rock since they'd been taken to the Valiant. He, in turn, drew strength from her belligerence. Character traits that had contributed to their split now kept them going. Their fiery personalities buoyed them instead of driving a wedge between them. Seeing the Master's treatment of Jack and then the destruction of the Japanese islands and their inhabitants, you needed a strong personality to not let it completely destroy your spirit.

The Master wiped his hands on a silk handkerchief as he stood over his beaten and bloody quarry. Jack Harkness tried to breathe through the pain in much the same way as pregnant women did during a contraction. The pain he was experiencing was way worse than any contraction... and if any man would know, he would! His wrists had been cuffed behind his back, but not before his right shoulder had been dislocated as a prelude to the proceedings. Sometimes, the Master barely touched Jack, preferring to use the laser screwdriver to manipulate muscles and nerve endings. Other times, like today, The Master was quite happy to lay into Jack with brute force. Either way, there would be pain and eventual death. He'd lost all concept of time during his sessions with the Master. It could have taken minutes, but God, it always felt like hours. "You'll be happy to know that I'm a little busy over the next few days so we won't have time to play. My rockets are near completion and I need to co-ordinate a launch. It's a pity, because I do so enjoy our time together." The Master hunkered down beside Jack and traced a finger down his face. "You're much more fun than The Doctor. He's such a useless old git, these days. Probably has Alzheimer's, or something." The Master took out his laser screwdriver and twirled it between his fingers like a majorette with a baton. "The problem is, Jack, that I can't kill you. I've tried and tried and tried and tried and tried, and every time, you come back as able bodied as if I never laid a finger on you… I wonder what would happen if just for once, I let you live?" The Master pressed the laser screwdriver between Jack's shoulders. The Captain screamed as pain seared through his back…and then there was nothing. But Jack wasn't dead. He just couldn't feel anything. No pain, no cuffs around his wrist… No sensation of anything.

"They say quadriplegics can live quite fulfilling lives, these days." The Master grinned, manoeuvring himself into Jack's eye line. "Maybe I'll wedge a paintbrush in those perfect teeth and see what you can come up with." He took Jack's TARDIS key from his breast pocket, still with the perception filter attached. "Although, I wonder what would happen if I put this around your neck? You'd fall off everyone's radar, even Francine Nightingale's, and be left to waste away in your own filth. The human body can survive days without food and water. A 51st century specimen like yourself should last even longer!"

The Master escorted the two guards carrying Jack back to the prisoner's quarters. He was dumped on the floor and shoved under his bunk, facing the wall so he wouldn't be able to see anyone coming or going. "Seeya soon, Captain!" The Master said as he placed the key around Jack's neck.

Jack tried calling out to attract attention. His voice was slight and hoarse after spending the better part of the day screaming out in pain. Nobody heard. Nobody noticed. He lay there, unable to move, unable to do anything… It had finally happened. He had been sent to Hell.

To Be Continued…


	5. Chapter 5

Breaking Point 

Chapter 5: Valiant (Part 2)

Francine Jones anxiously peered around the deserted boardroom. She had about 20 minutes before The Master would announce his entrance via iPod Shuffle.

"Doctor?" she whispered through a scrap of dirty brown material

"What?" A tired, old voice snapped back.

"I need to talk to you."

The Doctor slowly poked his head out. "What?"

"Have you seen Jack in the last couple of days?" Francine knelt down to his level. He doesn't seem to be in any of the places the Master takes him when he… he…"

"I haven't, no." The Doctor said quietly, saving Francine from completing the question.

"I just have a horrible feeling. It's like he's disappeared… There haven't been any transports down to the surface and I don't think he'd try to escape without at least trying to take _you_ with him."

"He would do something stupid and reckless like that, wouldn't he?" The old, curmudgeonly face cracked a smile, albeit briefly. "Have the guards been looking for him? I would think if he's missing, the Master would be mounting search parties and there doesn't seem to be any panic around here." They were disturbed by noise outside the boardroom. "Don't get caught talking to me, Francine. You don't need that kind of trouble." She quickly returned to the tray and the Doctor went back into his tent. "Keep looking for Jack, though. I'm sure if anyone can find him, it will be you."

The three Joneses spent what little spare time they had testing their boundaries and looking in places they knew could get them into trouble. It still didn't stop them trying. Taking a slight detour back from serving Lucy Saxon dinner in her private quarters, Francine checked in the sumptuously decorated rooms reserved for The Master and his wife. She wouldn't put it past the Master to have Jack tied up in the back of some wardrobe waiting for the tyrant to come and _play_.

"What do you think you're doing?" It was Lucy. She marched towards Francine who stood in the open doors of the wardrobe full of designer clothes. "Are you trying to steal my clothes?"

"I'm sorry, ma'am." Francine feigned deference towards the Master's wife when she wanted nothing better than to slap the oblivious bitch into the middle of next week. "They looked so nice."

Lucy called out. "Guards!" Two armed soldiers entered. "Get her out of here." One of them grabbed Francine by the back of the head, subduing any struggles by keeping a tight grip on her hair. "I won't tell Harry this time, but if I catch you here again…" She left the threat hanging in the air.

Francine was manhandled back to the prisoner's quarters and thrown roughly to the floor. As she landed, she saw a figure under one of the bunks but before she could react, one of the guards flipped her over and put a tight hand around her throat. "You'd want to watch yourself. The Master _loves_ dealing with troublemakers." Clive and Tish were kept at bay by a machine gun being brandished in their direction. The first guard flung Francine back to the floor and then they both left the quarters, locking the door behind them.

Before Clive and Tish could get to Francine to comfort her, she was crawling towards the bunk to retrieve Jack's body. "They hid him. The sick bastards hid his body." She hissed angrily. Jack's skin was ice cold to the touch as she hauled him out and rolled him onto his back preparing to clean him up. She gasped when she saw he was still alive. His eyes were open and he was breathing, but he was in terrible shape. She'd never seen the terror in Jack's face before. Tears rolled from his eyes, disappearing into his matted hairline.

"Jack?" Francine said softly. "Don't try to move. I don't want you hurting yourself any worse than you are. Just tell me where it hurts."

Jack's lips were dried and cracked, he tried to speak but nothing was coming out. Tish got him some water, tipping his head up to help him drink it.

"Nothing." Jack whimpered. "I can't… there's nothing."

"It's okay." Francine stroked his face. "We'll take care of you." She beckoned to Tish and Clive to help her. "He's in shock. Just carefully check him over."

Clive saw the bruising on Jack's stomach. "My God, what did he do to you?"

"Beat me and then used the laser screwdriver… Cut my spine." Jack said. "Can't feel anything… Cut between my shoulders. "

Tish grabbed one of Jack's hands. It was a dead weight in hers. "Just squeeze my hand, Jack. You can do that, can't you?"

"I can feel Francine's hand on my face." Jack said, trying to remain calm, but the higher pitch in his voice gave away the fact that he was terrified. "Can't feel you holding my hand, Tish. Sorry."

They quickly got Jack into the bunk and covered him with as much spare bed linen as they could find to warm him up. Jack could barely move his head from side to side. He could feel the pillow under his head and the cheap blanket scratching against his chin but beyond his shoulders, there was nothing. It felt like he was just this disembodied head. A nightmare sensation. Francine sat on the small bunk, making sure she was in Jack's line of sight. "We'll get you through this Jack." She said quietly running her hand through his damp, perspiration-soaked hair. "But you need to rest now, okay. Get some sleep and we'll figure out what to do."

"I know what to do." Jack said. "Take the pillow, and put it over my face until I stop breathing."

Francine's eyes widened in horror. "No… Jack, I can't do it."

"Please, Francine."

"You want me to kill you? Like The Master does every other day?" She was horrified at the prospect. "No. I'm not like him, I won't do that to you."

"Listen to me, Francine, _please_, I'm begging you." Jack said quietly. "I spent three days under that bunk, aware of everything that was being done and said… and I couldn't do a thing. You won't be killing me, you'll be _saving_ me…" She shook her head, indicating 'no'. "Francine, you've been so good to me this last year. It's been a long time since anyone's taken care of me… And there were days I don't know what I'd have done if it hadn't been for you… Waking up to a friendly face like yours and Clive and Tish has kept me sane." Francine dropped her head and began to cry and all Jack wanted to do was gently wipe away the tears that streamed down her cheeks for her. He couldn't even stop his own and that's why he needed to die again. "I know this is a lot to ask of you… But I'm asking because I trust you."

"What if I do this and you don't come back, this time?"

"Then it will be a sweet relief and I'll finally have some peace." Jack managed a slight smile. "There are things worse than death. I can't live like this and I can't do it myself, otherwise, I would. Please, Francine… _save me_."

She thought it over for a moment and then nodded her agreement. Francine took the pillow from under him and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not." He smiled as the pillow covered his face…

Despite Clive and Tish's best efforts, Francine wouldn't leave Jack's side. She needed to be with him, to watch over him until he came back. She sat in against the wall. Jack's legs stretched out under the crook of her knees. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable position, but at least she could do was stay with him for the time he was gone.

Warmth return to Jack's hand hours later, as it approached dawn. His grip in tightened uncomfortably in Francine's hand as Jack came gasping back to life. Before she had a chance to talk to him, his arms were around her, crushing her in a bear like grip to him as he caught his breath. "Thank you." He whispered in her ear before kissing her lightly on the cheek.

"I can't believe we could ignore you for days." Tish said quietly. "If we'd found you earlier…"

"You couldn't have." Jack took the TARDIS key from around his neck. "Because of this. It has a perception filter which kept me hidden. It's only because your mum was making a conscious effort to look for me at the time that she saw me. Martha has one of these, too. And I'm sure it's protecting her from detection. The Master could see through it, but nobody else can." An idea popped into his head and a sly grin spread across Jack's face. "I need you to keep looking for me. As far as the Master's concerned, I'm still under that bunk, undetected. That gives me a couple of days to go investigating around the Valiant… see if I can't do a bit of damage!"

When the guards came to take the Jones family to their work, Jack slipped out, unnoticed. He spent a couple of days quietly wandering around the vessel figuring out ways to sabotage the launch. He created minor glitches, here and there. Caused a few vents to pack in, making engines overheat, tripped sensors and alarms, but managed to casually wander off and hide before The Master arrived, knowing that he was impervious to the filter. During the night, he'd visit with The Doctor. Information about Martha hadn't filtered through for a couple of months now. They were hopeful that she was alive, but they decided to come up with a plan themselves to get the Master's screwdriver and reverse what he'd done to the Doctor. Sabotaging the Archangel network wasn't an option. There was a resistance on the planet, but if _everyone_ rose up against the Toclafane, the bloodshed would make the Decimation look like a Saturday night spat outside a pub. Jack passed on the plot to Clive who told Tish and Francine what they were hoping to do. The Doctor would give them the sign.

For the first time in almost a year, Francine felt hope. They had a chance. The Doctor's apparent senility was just an act. Physically he was frail, but mentally he was sharp as a tack. He _wanted_ the Master to think he had been defeated, lull him into a sense of complacency where he was no longer considered a threat. But she couldn't lose the run of herself either, had to carry on as normal as possible. Optimism and devious plans had a habit of being dealt a serious blow on the Valiant - Jack being a case in point. He was indulging in a bit of late night sabotage on the air conditioning systems when he was confronted…

The Master stood over Jack who was up to his waist under a console rewiring circuits. "Captain Harkness, you're more persistent than a case of the clap." he said with a hint of admiration in his voice. Jack slid out from under the console to find the all too familiar laser screwdriver aimed at his face. He didn't even get a chance to voice the swear words in his head before he saw the golden beam activate. And once again, the pain overwhelmed him until there was nothing. "It would give me the greatest pleasure to throw you out a bloody airlock." The Master hissed over Jack's dead body. "The only problem is _that_ wouldn't kill you either, would it? Well, not for long anyway... And I can't have you running around inciting rebellion on the planet. You're incorrigible, Captain." Jack's lifeless blue eyes looked like they were staring at him. "How do you do it? How do you keep coming back without regenerating? How do you keep _coming back_? " His brown eyes stared intently at Jack's. "Freak."

The next time he came around, Jack was on his knees with his arms stretched out over his head and held in chains. "This is not going to be fun, is it?" He grumbled to one of the guards, staggering to his feet. "That was rhetorical, by the way." Jack was no sooner on his feet when he was testing his bonds. The manacles around his wrists were locked tight and the wall fixtures seemed secure… couldn't do any harm to at least _try_ pull them from the wall.

Word had gotten around that Jack was being held separate from the other prisoners. Francine and Tish had managed to get in to see him under the pretence of bringing him meals. Francine hated seeing Jack chained up like a yard dog… But at least the Master wasn't torturing and killing him so that was an improvement!

And things were going to get even better. Because come three o clock, they had a plan…

Fin


	6. Chapter 6

**Breaking Point **

Chapter 6: Martha

"When you die, The Doctor should be witness." The Master said, dismissively. This wasn't about granting Martha a few more precious hours of life, but to humiliate the Doctor even more. To show him that The Master had infinite time and patience to break him down and put paid to any plans he may have had. The Master gestured to the armed guards surrounding them to take Martha to his private jet and back to the Valiant.

Martha's wrists were cuffed behind her before one of the Master's guards sat her in to one of the cream leather seats on the small jet. Ensuring the seatbelt was securely fastened across her waist, the guard then left her alone to await the Master's arrival and her return to the Valiant. It had been a long, long time since she'd been in surroundings so comfortable. Pity about the circumstances… and the handcuffs.

She wasn't alone for long when the Master arrived on board and sat opposite her. Martha sat passively. She wasn't going to fight or kick up a fuss. She had to get back to the Valiant to be with her family and the Doctor… if only to die with them.

"The Legendary Martha Jones." The Master smiled, hunkering in towards her. "So how was the gap year? Did you see the all the highlights on your Round the World tour? How was Delhi? I hear Delhi's _fabulous_ this time of the year. Did you do Machu Picchu? That's really popular with trekkers. I hope you got to Japan before… well, _you know_!" The Master grinned and shrugged his shoulders in an 'ooops' gesture. "Tell me _everything_, Martha. I'm just dying to know."

Martha had no problem looking him in the eye. "So does that mean if I tell you, you'll die… Or if I _don't_ tell you, you'll die? Either way… well, _you know_."

The Master laughed at her brazenness. "Oh, they were right about you!" A gloved hand stroked the side of her face and it took every ounce of Martha's resolve not to shirk. "The fire in your eyes, the determination, the rebellious streak that just won't quit. You're a lot like your mother in that respect. She tried on many occasions to cause trouble… but she serves me now. Comes to me every day and meekly gives me my tea. Learnt her place... The rest of the Joneses soon followed."

If the taunting was supposed to make Martha feel ashamed of her mother's servitude, it didn't work. The Master just confirmed that her family was still alive. At that point, she was filled with such joy and pride in her family, that if she hadn't been handcuffed, Martha might very well have thrown her arms around him and hugged him. Instead, she contained it as much as she could. The last thing she wanted was the Master getting under her skin. He was a manipulative genius as well as a murderous tyrant and Martha didn't want to be on the receiving end of either trait. He had spent the last few moments in silence, merely looking at her face. Eyes wandering from her direct gaze up to her hairline, to the outline of her cheeks, the full lips, the tiny cluster of pockmarks on her right cheek - probably the result of some childhood illness those backward earthlings still succumbed to — the dark circles under the bright, defiant eyes. No traces of grey in the hair - yet. Martha Jones was young and vital, despite a full year of hardship. The Master stood from his seat and removed his black, leather gloves. He took a step towards her as his fingers began to stroke her face again. Her skin was softer than he anticipated and he was surprised when she made no attempt to stop him or turn away from him. The Master leant down to her eye level and she locked her gaze into his eyes. One that positively dared him to try and break her. Oh if only she knew who she was messing with! A couple of cheap parlour tricks and he'd have her on her knees slavishly worshipping him…

In the last few months, Martha had gotten so used to being cold, that the heat in the plane was starting to affect her. The Master's delicate and rhythmic stoking down her cheek, then back to her hairline, combined with the warmth on board and lack of sleep all conspired to make her drowsy. He watched as her stare became less focussed, her pupils dilated and her eyelids began to slip. "There." He whispered gently into her ear. "Isn't that nice?" Martha nodded, like she was lost in a daydream. "How long has it been since you were warm and safe? How long since someone held you and told you that you were beautiful? And you are, you know..." His warm, soft cheek was resting against hers as his gentle hand cupped her other cheek. The Master's soft, lilting voice sounded like it was being carried on the breeze, permeating every part of her mind…. And how open a mind it was. The Master wandered, unhindered, through Martha's thoughts. Her experiences in the last year, tending to the sick and the wounded, preaching hope and throughout all this thinking about The Doctor. Digging a little deeper he saw her experiences as she travelled through time and space. Suns, moons, cat people, rhino people… and a flirtation with Shakespeare no less! "Aren't you tired of all this wandering? Fighting against something you have no hope of stopping? Fighting for someone who'll never care about you the way you do about him?" The Master's lips brushed tantalisingly close to hers. His warm breath flushing her cheek causing her breath to quicken. "After what you've been through, you deserve to be worshipped. I could make you a _goddess_, Martha." He smiled as he felt her head loll back on to the headrest. Her eyes were practically closed, her lips parted… she was ripe for the taking. "The Doctor may never kiss you, Martha. Why not entertain a man who will?". He swooped in, hands cradling her cheeks and his tongue invading her mouth. She willingly accepted and responded to his ministrations in kind. He could feel Martha arch her back like she was trying to escape from the cuffs so she could draw him closer to her. She ran her foot up the side of his leg and then manoeuvred it between them. Her knee was quite close to her chest meaning she was quite agile… He liked that. It held a lot of possibilities. Martha brought her foot between his thighs and rubbed back and forth a couple of times before quickly kicking him back from her. The Master careered back against his own leather chair with force, causing it to swivel slightly and send him crashing to the floor. Two armed guards raced in, on hearing the scuffle.

Martha spat his taste from her mouth. "Is that how you snared your missus?" she growled, still restrained by the cuffs and the seatbelt. "Is that the only way you can get someone to show you any kind of affection? You tie them up and put the _whammy_ on them? You're _pathetic_!"

The Master quickly scrambled to his feet. "Get out!" He screamed at the guards who knew better than to question. Quick as lightning, he was back to Martha, one leg rested across her knees to prevent her from kicking out at him again. His hand went straight to her throat. "You stupid, little bitch. " He expressed his anger further by squeezing tighter on her windpipe, completely cutting off access to her air. "I could have given you everything, including your precious Doctor." Martha was on the verge of blacking out when he let go. She gasped and spluttered for oxygen. "You would have wanted for _nothing_!"

"Dripping in diamonds… and designer dresses…" Martha said between gulps of air. "Subservient in luxury to you… while the planet starves and burns? I'd rather be dead!"

The Master whipped out his laser screwdriver and aimed it at her. "Done!"

Martha yelled as he took aim. "_No!_" It was a defiant yell, not a plea. "No you won't." The corner of her mouth slid up in a dismissive smile. "Not here and now anyway."

The Master kept the weapon trained on her. "You're that sure?"

"You won't do it yet because, unlike The Doctor and Jack, you can only kill me once. And I don't think your ego will be content to just dump my dead body in front of the Doctor… You want him to see it happen… You need him to bear _witness_."

It galled him that she was right. In that moment, The Master imagined a million brutal, humiliating ways he could make her scream and beg for his forgiveness. Oh, if only he had the time, but he had a war to start! He'd spent long enough preparing for it and an upstart like Martha Jones would not derail it. "You will be executed in front of the world, and your Doctor, as a warning. Rebellion against me will not succeed."

The Master cast one final disgusted look over his prisoner and returned to his seat for landing on the Valiant. He swivelled the chair around so he was facing away from Martha who allowed herself a slight smile. Her own personal rebellion _had_ suceeded. And if she had to die that day, at least she knew she would die free.

Fin


End file.
